I'm daunted. While it's pretty exciting to be picking out stuff for my wedding registry, it's quite a process doing it online. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have this "shopping shortcut", especially since it's such a hassle to drive to a store, spend a couple of hours there, get sidetracked, end up buying stuff I didn't need or didn't have the money for, etc. But Andrew has no interest whatsoever in picking anything out so I'm having to do this all by myself. And we're starting from scratch.
It would also be one thing if, as a 37 year-old and a 41 year-old respectively, we could say we're pretty well well-stocked with even just the basic stuff...but we're not. Andrew is the quintessential bachelor. And I unloaded any stuff I had when I ditched L.A. for Austin two and a half years ago. Everything we own is mismatched, old, and not even close to what I would call presentable to guests. At ALL. It's okay, I'm not super picky. But I have to say it would be really, REALLY nice to have some proper dishes, cookware, etc. just in the off-chance that someday I actually would like to "cook", and not just nuke a microwave dinner.
That, actually, is my DREAM. I promise you I would cook if I had any of the tools with which to do it. I promise, I WILL be a good wife.
Okay, I'll be a decent one.
Good thing that Andrew is so laid-back and "tranquilo", as he likes to say. He doesn't mind that I'm not Doris Day, not even close. He's a much better "wife" than I am in a lot of respects. He cleans up all day long while I'm off at my 9 to 5. When I get home all I want to do is plop down and watch MSNBC. He nudges at me enough to get me to go do a nightly walk with him. We catch up about how our day was then. He tells me all about the meetings with distributors and crazy producers and investors. I tell him how my psycho co-worker has irritated me to distraction that day. We talk about our future plans. Buying land in Smithville. Re-doing the house and the kitchen. Our next trip to Home Depot.
I asked him this evening, "Baby. What did you think when you first met me?" He was sitting on the couch, his laptop on the coffee table and the Texas Tech/Oklahoma game on TV. "What??" He asked me in a whiny voice. I started to giggle. "Baaaabeeeeeee!", said as I'm cracking up. "Men don't WORK that way. I'm watchin' the game!" I put on my hurt face: pouted and started stomping my feet (all playfully, of course). "What, men don't have fuckin' MEMories????" "Naw, Baby. Oh...okay, I told you you had a great jaw for kids." (Okay, I have to explain. What he means by that is that I have a square jaw, it's my Czech blood. If I had a son he'd have a jaw like JFK, Jr. Seriously. So he said he remembered he noticed that and said so to me). "So when you met me you were thinking about procreating with me?" "Yeah, baby," he said. "Now can I watch the game?"
I love that man.